Oh those 400-plus sweaty people lined up outside the Blaisdell Center on Monday morning as though they were trying out for “American Idol” or being paid as some rich guy’s proxy to put in a bid for a new Kakaako Condo…

What was on their minds? Was this something they were looking forward to or was there detectable resignation in the way they were waiting? Hard to tell, though lots of people were wondering, though prospective jurors weren’t allowed to say.

Are those summoned citizens the lucky ones who got a day off work plus the potential for an extended leave from the daily grind? Are they fortunate to have a chance at a front-row seat and to be a part of what is bound to be one of the state’s strangest trials? Are some dreaming of book deals when this is all over? Of hitting the international lecture circuit? Or just having colorful tales to tell the grandkids someday?

Or are they the unfortunate souls culled from the community like a scene from “Hunger Games” or Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery”? The ones who must step forward while everyone else shrinks back to their homes and cubicles, relieved that the dirty work is in their hands and not ours?

On Monday, the pool of potential jurors reported to the Blaisdell to stand outside in the humid morning, and then file into the Pikake Room, a nondescript meeting area usually used for weekend coin collector shows and mandatory training sessions. There, they got a what-not-to-do lecture from the judge, and were given a form that had 31 questions, some of which were like essay questions on a test.

(A hard essay test! Like, “Write down everything you heard about this case” kind of questions! Yikes. Most of us can write down everything we know about the case, ask for more paper, keep writing, sharpen the pencil, keep writing and then read it back and it still won’t make any sense.)

Photos and videos taken by news media were shot from a distance outside the Blaisdell. Cameras were not allowed in the Pikake Room. Some news outlets pixelated their footage, but you know people all over Oahu were staring at those images going, “Hey, I think that’s Marlene!” or, “Wait, my co-worker said he was called and that’s why he couldn’t come to work, but I don’t see his big head or bandy legs standing in that line, that stinker!”

Some people were actually lamenting on social media that they had not been summoned for jury duty, as though it would be an adventure of a lifetime, like getting a VIP ticket for opening night of the biggest show in town.

As outrageous as the circumstances of this case may be, really, it’s neither a golden opportunity nor a heavy burden. It’s a civic duty, and one that should be approached and carried out with all earnestness.

And anyway, this is only the phony-mailbox-theft trial. More coming. Still get chance.

Reach Lee Cataluna at 529-4315 or lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.